Page 42 of He Should Be Mine

I stand, scraping my chair back. “I’ve got things to do.”

“Sure,” Molly says, voice lighter now. “Don’t forget to bill me for shirt rental.”

I leave the room without looking back.

But I feel his eyes on me the whole way out.

Molly falls asleep on the sofa again.

He has the toast plate balanced on his chest and the mug empty on the floor. I take them away and fold a blanket over him. It’s not cold, but he curls into it like it’s armor. Like the knit throw will protect him from bruises that go deeper than the skin.

I sit across from him and pretend to scroll my phone.

The seconds stretch. Minutes feel like hours. The apartment feels smaller than it did yesterday. There’s nowhere to go.

I try to focus on the newsfeed on my phone, on anything that isn’t the way Molly’s breath stutters every so often, like even asleep he’s not at peace.

A half hour passes before he stirs. He blinks at me, half-swallowed by the blanket.

“You’re still here?”

I nod.

He yawns. “You know, it’s creepy to watch people sleep.”

“Good thing I wasn’t watching, then.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

He sits up, wincing a little. I hate that wince. I hate that I know exactly how he got every mark. Hate that I didn’t rip Riccardo’s fucking throat out for it.

Molly stretches, and the blanket slides down. I look away.

“You don’t have to be stuck in this boring hell with me,” he says.

“Yes I do.”

He sighs dramatically. “I pinky promise not to do anything stupid.”

I stare at him.

“Well, for today, anyway. Full stupidity will likely resume tomorrow.”

I shake my head. At least he is self-aware. Have to give the boy credit where it’s due.

“I’m here for your safety, and Riccardo’s name. Not just in an attempt to stop your stupidity.” I remind him.

He rolls his pretty eyes. “Because wives and kids are out of bounds, but side pieces are fair game.” He pouts. “But nobody knows I exist, so how can they kidnap me in a power move against Rick?”

I say nothing, because there is nothing to say. Riccardo doesn’t want to risk it because he would lose face, never mind the fallout from being outed as gay. Riccardo is also using it to keep me down. But it is the only order of his I’ve never minded. I want to guard Molly. I want to keep him safe. I’m not going anywhere. Not until this is done.

Molly stares at me. He must see something in my expression, because he lets out a little huff, a soft noise of surrender.

“I think we should play a game,” he says, giving in on getting me to leave, and changing the topic instead.

“No.”

“You didn’t even ask what kind of game.”